


Control the Spirit

by Crowroth



Series: You can't damper my Spirit [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, Cutting, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mpreg, Post-Nogitsune, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Some dark themes, cause it is, kitsune!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:13:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowroth/pseuds/Crowroth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the nogitsune, Stiles gets depressed and pushes himself away from the pack because he blames himself for Allison and Aiden's deaths. He then finds out that he is a kitsune and things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control the Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. This is the first installment of a series. THERE WILL BE MPREG LATER.  
> I took references from Japan, China, and a little from Inuyahsa for the Kitsune.  
> Kitsune in this story can full-shift and are more powerful than they are in the show.  
> There is some rather depressing things in the beginning, but you could skip that if you want. It's not going to come up much later, because, well... you'll see.  
> Enjoy. Constructive Criticism in most definitely helpful! Especially what you think of the Kitsune it this story.

Stiles sat in the classroom taking notes and trying to listen to what the teacher was blabbing on about. He thought he heard something about fusion and atoms, but he isn’t sure at this point.

‘Oh dear boy, you should really pay attention to your studies. They’re going to get you far in life one day’ A voice inside of Stiles’ head spoke. Stiles clenched his hands and gritted his teeth together. ‘Shut up’ He forcefully said back to the thing invading his mind.

Stiles looked back up to the teacher to try to listen in when he noticed the room had gone dead silent. Every student stared back at him with confusion clearly etched in their faces. The teacher didn’t look particularly happy. Apparently, Stiles had said that last part out loud.

Stiles looked over at Scott, who had worry written all over his face towards Stiles. He clenched his fist and felt something moist in his hand. He looked down to see a think red substance drip from his closed fist onto the surface beneath. Stiles’ eyes grew wide and he felt panic rise in his chest.

He jumped out of his desk, only to see that he wasn’t in a classroom anymore. Stiles looked around to see himself in Deaton’s. He looked down in his hand again. Instead of blood seeping through his fingers, in Stiles’ hand was the hilt of a sword.

Stiles followed the weapon with eyes. Said eyes grew in horror once he saw the sword plunged into the stomach of his best friend. Stiles’ hand clenched the hilt and turned the weapon, causing Scott to groan out in pain. ‘Stop! Please stop it!’ Stiles pleaded to the thing controlling his body.

‘But we’re just having fun’ It replied, shoving the sword in deeper ‘See?’ Stiles’ eyes looked at Scott’s face to see a wide grin on his face. “Yeah, Stiles. We’re just having fun” Scott echoed the voice in Stiles’ head. As if on que, Stiles’ body ripped the sword out of Scott’s stomach and plunged in into the middle of Scott’s forehead.

Stiles jolted awake with a scream, comforter and sheets flying off of his body and onto the floor. A few seconds later, Stiles’ Dad opened the door with his handgun. He looked around the room before lowering the weapon and walking over to Stiles. “You alright, Kiddo?” He asked, rubbing a hand up and down Stiles’ back. Stiles looked down at his hands in his lap. How could they have cause so much pain? These hands; These very same hands attached to his body has committed countless murders.

Sure, they weren’t of his own free will, but Stiles’ body had killed nonetheless. And he has to live with that. A shake to the shoulder pulled Stiles out of his thoughts. He turned towards his Dad and nodded. “Yeah” He croaked, voice hoarse and throat dry. “It was just another nightmare.”

John looked sympathetically at his son. He wishes there was some way that he could stop the nightmares. He understands why Stiles go through them, though. Having something cause that much pain to your loved ones while wearing your face isn’t something to shrug off a month later.

So yeah, John understands the nightly visits from his son’s subconscious. Stiles has gone through too much in his short lifetime; too much for someone the age John is now. John sighed and nodded his head. “Do you need anything?” He asked his son, already knowing the answer.

Stiles stared at his lap, looking at nothing. He slowly shook his head. John sighed and got up to leave. He hated leaving his son with his own thoughts. He knew how Stiles’ brain is. It won’t be good, but his son was strong and he’d be able to handle it.

John kissed Stiles on the forehead before walking out and closing the door behind him, plunging Stiles’ room in darkness. Stiles waited for 20 minutes, staring blankly at his lap. When he knew that his Dad wasn’t standing outside his bedroom door anymore and finally went to sleep, he got out of his bed.

Stiles dropped down on his stomach and rummaged under his box spring. He pulled out a small wooden box and sat on his bed. He placed the box on his lap and stared at it for a while. He brushed his fingers across the smooth surface and saw that it had collected dust. It’s been a while since he’s used the contents of the box.

Stiles’ fingers were shaky when he went to open the wooden box. Once he got the top off, he couldn’t stop the choked sob that racked throughout his body. Laying inside was a small picture of his mother, Claudia while she was still heathy and lively. Stiles carefully lifted the picture to find a stack of razors underneath.

Stiles carefully lifted on up and put it to his wrist. He looked down at the picture of his mom and remembered a memory from when he was eight, right after his mom’s funeral.

Stiles stood in the doorway to his living room to see his Dad’s head in his hands and a liquor bottle next to his foot on the ground. He was still wearing his black suit from hours earlier at his wife’s funeral.

Stiles carefully took a step forward, attempting to touch his father’s shoulder. Once he made contact, his Dad’s head snapped up to look at Stiles. He jumped back away from his father, afraid to see so much hatred and fire in his eyes.

“You know it’s your fault, right?” His father asked, standing up and wobbling some, obviously drunk. Stiles took a step back as his father took one forward. “You killed you mother!” He yelled, kicking the bottle and making it smash on the wall, glass going everywhere. “And now, I’m stuck here trying to raise a mentally retarted spastic child who I didn’t even WANT on my own!” 

The words cut deeper than what Stiles had thought possible. Stiles saw his hand clench into a fist at his father’s side. John looked at his son. “I hate you” he stated. Stiles trembled and fell down on his butt. “Get out of my sight before I smack you” He was told.

Stiles scrambled up and ran towards his room. He sat on his bed sobbed into his pillow. His father was right. It was Stiles’ fault his mother isn’t alive today.

As the memory faded, Stiles could feel the tear streaks on his cheek. He cut two deep gashes in his arm, one for each of the people’s lives he ruined. He then thought back to the day he had got Scott bitten.

He sliced a third cut into his skin, wincing slightly at the pain. He thought back to Erica and Boyd. He cut three more slices, signaling the two betas and their alpha. He thought about being possessed by the nogitsune. He sliced four more gashes on his arm.

He killed Allison (one gash).

Scott’s first love (another gash).

Isaac’s girlfriend (another gash).

Chris’ daughter (gash).

Stiles was so caught up in his memories and self-loathing that he didn’t realize how much he had cut himself and how much he was bleeding out. He quickly put the razor back in the box and ran to the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and pressed it against his arm, trying to calm the blood flow.

He got out some gauze and wrapped it around his arm tightly and sighed. After cleaning up, Stiles looked at himself in the mirror. He should be here. He deserved to be dead. After the amount of pain and misery he’s caused in people’s lives, it isn’t fair that he should be the one to carry on.

Stiles returned to his room and put the box back in its place under the bed. He laid down in his bed and tried to get some more sleep. Although it was a Friday, which meant weekend, he still wanted some sleep before the crack of dawn.  
Stiles fell into a dreamless sleep.

*

Derek stood in Stiles’ room watching the boy sleep. His nose twitched at the metallic smell of the boy’s blood. Derek could hear the pack downstairs talking amongst themselves, waiting for Derek to bring Stiles down.

Derek walked over to the boy. “Stiles. Get up and get dressed” He said, shaking the boy’s shoulder. Stiles mumbled something incoherent before grabbing Derek’s wrist. “My sourwolf’ll take the nightmares away” Stiles grumbled, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s palm.

Derek stiffened. Had he just heard what he think he did. Stiles called Derek his. The wolf inside of Derek howled at the thought, but the rational part of summed it up to Stiles just mumbling in his sleep. He shook the boy once more. Stiles’ face twisted up in discomfort before he turned away from Derek.

Derek shook Stiles’ shoulder again. Stiles let out a high pitched whine and mumbled something along the lines ‘stop it’. Derek sighed. This boy was insufferable. “Stiles.” Derek said, his voice deep and irritated.

“The pain… My sourwolf’ll take the pain away. Bring me my Derek.” Stiles grumbled again, rubbing his face in his pillow. Derek looked at Stiles astonished. Stiles said his Derek. Wait… pain. What pain?

Derek pulled the covers down, showing Stiles’ leg. He put his hand on the boy’s calf and sucked away the pain. Stiles sighed and leaned into the touch. Derek watched the boy’s face, veins going black. Once Derek stopped, Stiles huffed and buried more under the comforter.

Derek tried to stifle a laugh. The boy could be so childish sometimes. “Thanks sourwolf. I love my sourwolf.” Stiles mumbled into the pillow. Derek stared at the boy in shock, mouth hanging open. Stiles… loved him?

Derek heard someone mumble about how long he’s taking downstairs. Derek shook his head and shook Stiles again. “Get up! There’s a pack meeting downstairs.” Derek said semi-yelling. Stiles sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He looked in Derek’s general direction, eyes not really focusing.

“Sourwolf?” He asked in a hopeful tone. Derek nodded. “Stop waking me up. M’sleepy.” He said, a pout on his face. Derek huffed and rolled his eyes. Stiles grabbed Derek’s wrist. “Come cuddle. M’sleepy. Cuddle.” Stiles said, slightly tugging at Derek’s wrist.

“No, Stiles. You need to get up.” Derek said, pulling his wrist out of the boy’s grasp. “Nooo.” Stiles let out a high pitched whine. “Yes.” Derek replied, throwing the comforter off of Stiles’ body. Stiles huffed and crossed his arms, pout set firmly in place.

Derek noticed the gauze on the boy’s arm and took a step forwards. “What happened here?” He asked, hands ghosting over the arm, careful not to touch. Stiles’ body stiffened and he quickly got up. “Uhm nothing. Didn’t you say there was a pack meeting? I think I should get ready for that. Maybe get dressed, I dunno. Should I just go down in my pajamas? I mean, I guess it wouldn’t make a difference” Stiles said, mouth spewing sentences.

“Stiles. Shut up. Be downstairs in five minutes.” Derek stated. Stiles nodded numbly and fake saluted. Derek huffed and turned towards the door. Once Derek started descending the stairs, he heard whispers of ‘shut up’, ‘here he comes’, ‘shh! Don’t say anything’. 

Derek huffed once he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned towards his wayward pack. Everyone looked away except Scott, who had a horrified look, Lydia, who smirked slightly, and Erica, who had the most wolfish grin Derek has ever seen. “I don’t even wanna know” Derek gritted out, sitting next to Isaac on the couch.

“Aww, but Sourwolf! I wanted you to cuddle with me” Erica said, faux puppy eyes in place. Derek rolled his eyes, about to say a snarky remark when Stiles came down the stairs. Derek shut up and watched Stiles slowly enter the room, shoulders hunched over, trying to close in on himself.

Derek noticed that Stiles put on a long-sleeved shirt to hide the gauze on his arm, but any wolf in the room could smell the copper of Stiles’ blood. None of them brought it up, though.

Stiles stood at the entryway, arms crossing over his waist, shoulders hunched, head down, and shifting from foot to foot. It was so disgustingly unlike Stiles, that Derek got upset over it. 

“Stiles” Derek started in a commanding voice. Stiles flinched and slowly lifted his head to meet Derek’s gaze. Derek patted the vacant spot next to him for Stiles to sit. “S’okay. I’m good with standing” Stiles whispered, looking towards the door. Realization dawned over Derek’s face.

Stiles wanted to stand in case someone from the pack tried to hurt him and he could make a run to the front door. Stiles looked around the room, taking in everyone. The whole pack was there, minus his father, who had an early shift. And the two pack members whose life Stiles was responsible for ending.

He looked over at Scott and then Lydia. He had taken someone away from them. He took Scott’s first love and Lydia’s current one. All because he was too weak to fight off the Nogitsune inside of his mind. Stiles’ shoulders started to shake in silent sobs. 

Derek slowly got up, making sure not to move too fast. He didn’t want Stiles to run off and be afraid of him. Stiles’ head shot up and his gaze met Derek’s. Derek could see tears running freely from the boy’s face. Stiles took a step back, a constant mantra of ‘no, no, no, no, no, no’ spewing from his mouth. 

Stiles thought Derek was going to hurt him for killing two of his pack members and putting the rest in anguish. Stiles took another step back, then bolted for the front door, snatching his keys off of the table next to it.

Stiles forgave shoes and threw the door open. He ran to his Jeep and jumped in. Stiles saw Derek and Scott emerge from the door seconds later. Stiles started the car and quickly peeled away from the driveway. Stiles drove as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself from the police. 

*

Derek tried to run after Stiles, but it was to no avail. Stiles was fast. Fast for a werewolf. He heard commotion coming from the front room and heard Scott’s heartbeat follow him out of the house. He busted through the open door and tried to reach Stiles in time. 

Stiles had already pulled out of the driveway by the time Derek made it to the space where his car just was. Scott ran after Stiles’ Jeep as he drove it down the street, but gave up. Derek sighed and turned back to the house, throwing a look over his shoulder to see that Stiles’ Jeep was no longer on the same street.

Derek reluctantly returned to his pack to see shocked faces all around. He took his seat next to Isaac again and the room fell in silence. Scott returned to them a couple minutes later, looking completely devastated. This is when Kira decided to speak up.

“What is wrong with Stiles?” The kitsune asked in a low voice, afraid of stepping out of line. “He still blames himself for Aiden and Allison’s death.” Derek replied, sighing heavily. The boy needs to know that no one blames him for it. “But… I don’t understand. He didn’t do anything. And their funeral was months ago.” It was Isaac’s soft voice that spoke up this time.

“Stiles doesn’t blame himself for killing them physically. He blames himself for not stopping the Nogitsune in time. He thinks of himself as too weak to let the nogitsune in his mind. To let it take control of his body and kill with his face. He’s not angry with the nogitsune. He’s angry with himself.” Derek said, looking at the space where Stiles had stood.

*

Stiles didn’t know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to put as much space between him and the pack as he can. They probably came there to hurt him; to threaten him to never come around the pack again. They most likely thought of him as the spastic human weakling, who –of course- had to get possessed and kill two members of the pack.

They were probably disgusted with him. Maybe if he had been stronger, he could’ve fought the nogitsune for control over his mind and body. He could’ve pushed the thing out and saved them all. But Stiles was the weak human who everyone had to protect.

Tears filled Stiles’ eyes as he drove, making his sight blurry, but Stiles didn’t care anymore. The people who he had loved the most didn’t want anything to do with himself. Stiles pulled his Jeep to the shoulder of the road. He didn’t know why, but he just felt he should pull over here. 

Stiles looked up to see that he had driven to the Beacon Hills Cemetery. He got out of the car and walked through the gravestones, fingers ghosting over every one. Stiles purposefully skipped the part where he knew his mom was buried and went towards the middle of the cemetery.

Standing there tall was a gigantic oak tree. Stiles sat underneath it and sobbed. He sobbed until his whole body shook with them raking through his body. Stiles sobbed until there wasn’t any tears left in him. Stiles looked up at the sky and noticed that it was around midday. 

Stiles’ eyelids started to get droopy and he tried to get up and make it back to his Jeep, but he fell asleep again the old oak tree.

*

When Stiles woke up, he was again surrounded by the pack. Stiles shot to his feet and looked around, trying to find a spot where he could run through, but the pack had him thoroughly surrounded. ‘Well’ Stiles thought to himself, ‘this is it’. Stiles flinched when Derek stuck his hand out, waiting for the pain.

Stiles didn’t receive any pain.

The boy slowly opened his eyes to see Derek’s hand stuck out in an attempt to help him up. Stiles reluctantly took his hand and Derek hefted him to his feet. “Ouch!” Stiles cried out, back arching and body dropping to its knees. The pack startled and surrounded him, but Stiles paid them no mind.

His back HURT. It was searing hot pain that was indescribable. Stiles dug his fingernails into the dirt and let out another blood-curdling scream. Stiles’ vison started to black out at the edges and unable to contain consciousness, he passed out.

*

When Stiles regained consciousness, he heard whispered voices above him. “We need to get him to Deaton!” Someone whispered, and that’ll be Scott because he couldn’t whisper if his life depended on it. “No, we need to get him to my mom! She’ll know more about this than Deaton.” Kira’s persistent voice cut it. The two fell into a bicker, until Derek’s voice cut them off.

“Enough. Kira’s right. She should know more about what happened to Stiles.” Derek said in his Alpha voice. Why would they need Noshiko to help Stiles? What was wrong with him? But before he could voice his concerns, he was hefted up and thrown over someone’s shoulder.

Stiles slowly opened his eyes to be presented with an apple butt and he felt the sudden need to touch it, but before he could get his hand there to just squeeze it, he was thrown into the backseat of his Jeep.

“What’re yer doing? No one drives muh baby.” Stiles gritted out of his mouth, voicing his concern for someone driving his Jeep. “Shut up, Stiles” Is what he got in reply.

*  
“Show me your tail” Noshiko insisted. They were sitting in the Yukimura’s front room. It was just her, Stiles, and a cup of tea. The pack was requested to stay in another room. “Uh excuse me?” Stiles asked, immediately uncomfortable. “Your tail” Noshiko said again, gesturing to Stiles’ lower back.

That’s when it all came back to Stiles. The burning searing pain in his lower back. Stiles immediately stood up and tried to look at his butt. He saw nothing there. “I don’t see any tail.” He said, turning back to Noshiko and shrugging. “That’s because you’re hiding them.” Noshiko said like it was common sense. 

“Imagine a tail coming out right where your tail bone should be.” She said, giving Stiles the lamest advice ever. Stiles huffed and closed his eyes, imagining a tail pop out of his lower back. He sighed and opened his eyes. “I don’t know what you expect me to accomplish here. I’m a tailless human.” Stiles said, training his eyes on Noshiko, who had an extremely shocked look on her face.

Stiles followed her eyes to see three bushy black, white-tipped tails poking out of his back. “Holy crap!” He screamed, putting a hand out to touch one. Whoa. He FELT that in his tail! It was just like touching his chest or rubbing… other parts of his body.  
The pack busted in when they heard Stiles’ scream, only to have a shocked look like Noshiko. “He didn’t have that many before.” Isaac dumbly pointed out. Noshiko turned to the pack. “We are going to have to see Deaton after all, it seems.”

*

“Stiles you’re a kitsune. And a powerful one it seems” Deaton said as his eyes trailed over Stiles’ tails. “So what? The nogitsune turned me into a kitsune?” He asked, feeling exposed under Deaton’s gaze. Deaton sighed and shook his head. “No, Stiles. One cannot be turned into a kitsune. You are a born one. It seems that early in your childhood someone had closed the door to that part in your mind and when the nogitsune possessed you, it opened it back up.”

“Okaaaay.” Stiles said slowly, “but why do I have three tails and Kira only has one?” He asked, passing a glance back to the girl standing by her mother. “That I do not know.” Deaton said, “But I can help you figure out more.” Deaton went back in the backroom and came out with supplies he put on the table. There was a rock, a bowl of water, a candle, a leaf, a lightbulb, a lit incense, and a rat in a cage. “Kitsune are fox spirits that originate from Japan” Deaton started, “but, no, they are not actual Spirits. They’re just called that because of where they originate from, which is the spirit world. Kitsune live to be over 900 years old and with every century comes another tail. The more tails a kitsune has, the more powerful they are. Once a kitsune reaches nine tails, they’re extremely powerful and all knowing.” The vet said, continuing on. “There are 13 types of Kitsune, or shall I say, clans. Your friend here, Kira is a thunder kitsune, while her mom is a Celestial. We’re going to figure out which one you are.”

Stiles’ eyes shot up to Deaton. “The 13 clans are Wind, Fire, Earth, River, Ocean, Mountain, Forest, Void, Time, Celestial, Music, Thunder, and Spirit.” Noshiko cut in. “Right” Deaton said, nodding to the woman. The first test was wind, which Stiles failed horribly at. Then came fire, which was to no avail. Bummer, too. Stiles was hoping to be fire.

“We’re going to test the water next. There are two types of water kitsune. The river kitsune focuses on healing while the ocean focuses on harming, but before we distinct the two, try to move the water first.” Deaton had explained. Stiles couldn’t even make a tremor in the water. Next he was instructed to make the lightbulb glow in his hand like Kira can. He couldn’t do that either.

“Okay.” Deaton started, “earth is next. Just like water, there are two types of kitsune that uses the element. Where earth focuses on protection, mountain kitsune focuses on damaging.”

Looks like Stiles was neither. “Try to imagine the mouse as a younger version of himself, and see if you could control its timeline.” Deaton instructed, but Stiles couldn’t do that, either. The next test that came up was sound, or rather music. Stiles yelled and yelled and yelled at the mouse until his throat was sore, but it still didn’t do anything.

“Celestial kitsune are also known as healing kitsune.” Deaton started. “This mouse has a broken leg. Try to imagine it’s bones mending together and heal it.” Deaton instructed. Stiles was not a healer. Next test that came was the void test, which Stiles skipped.

The last two tests were the forest or spirit test. “Spirit kitsune are extremely unique and powerful. They’re the only kitsune able to manipulate the spirit world. They use the manifestation of a dead thing’s spirit and trades that in for another spirit to take its place.” Noshiko started, which Deaton continued. “Yes. Say that one of your pack took out a werewolf, but not before they were badly hurt. A spirit kitsune would take the soul of the dead werewolf and trade it in for a benevolent spirit to heal your pack mate, or a malevolent spirit to attack another enemy.” 

Stiles thought that would be an extremely helpful skill to contribute to the pack. “But how do I test that?” Stiles asked Deaton. The vet flicked his wrist and everyone in the room could hear the mouse’s neck snap. As soon as the mouse died, an eerie blue mist floated above its corpse.

Stiles held his hand out and the mist reacted to his will. Stiles grabbed hold of the mist and tried to imagine a thunder spirit. As soon as he did that, the mist was gone and in its wake, the spirit of a little girl with fox ears and two tails. Derek grabbed Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles flinched, thinking he was about to get because Derek was mad.

The spirit took Derek as an enemy and put her hands out to him. A lightning bolt flew from the spirit’s hands and shot Derek right in the middle of his chest. The Alpha flew against the wall behind him and broke several jars and shelfs. The pack jolted up and turned towards the spirit. Stiles stepped in front of it. “You should leave now.” He told it, looking over his shoulder.  
It spared one last glare at Derek then nodded and disappeared. “Congratulations, Derek” Deaton started, a smile on his lips, “You have a very powerful spirit kitsune in your pack.” Stiles started to protest that Derek didn’t want him in the pack, but Noshiko continued on. 

“That isn’t your only skill, Stiles. Kitsune are able to use their fox fire for causing damage, too. Kira is able to shoot lightning, while I’m able to burn enemies with light. You, however are able to cast spirit balls. You don’t need a spirit to exchange for this skill, though. You should be able to make them of your own free will.”

“Yes” Deaton agreed. “Also, Kitsune are able to work magic, but not as profound as some sorcerers around the world. To perform a spell, you’d need the spirit of a magic user to aid you. Kitsune are very adept at illusion and mind control, too, but we’re not going to worry about that right now.” Deaton said, picking up broken glass from the jars.

“Kitsune can also shapeshift like werewolves” He added, motioning to Stiles’ tails and his head. Wait, his head? Stiles’ hands flew to his hair and there he felt two velvety soft fox ears. “Can I make these go away?” Stiles asked motioning to his tails and ears. “Yes” Noshiko said, “But you have to be extremely careful. Careless kitsune have let their tails and ears show and were killed for it.”

Stiles nodded numbly. He wasn’t going to be careless. 

*

Stiles’ next few weeks were spent with learning spirit magic with Deaton and learning battle techniques with Noshiko. Where Kira had specialized in a Katana, Stiles picked ninja stars because he could manipulate them with his spirit balls and make them more powerful.

Stiles has also been tip-toeing around the pack. He’s made sure not to cross paths with them and to not antagonize them. It was until three weeks later Stiles had come home from practice with Deaton to find a certain sourwolf on his bed. 

Stiles had immediately gone into attack mode and threw a spirit-ball enhanced star straight for his forehead. Derek caught it right before it hit him, but he dropped it as if he had been burned. “Shit.” Stiles muttered, going over to see if Derek was okay. 

“Why’re you attacking people?” Derek gritted out, looking at his fingers that were refusing to heal. “Why’re you sneaking in people’s rooms?!” Stiles blurted out, before looking at the ground and baring his neck to Derek and muttered a ‘sorry’. Derek growled and grabbed Stiles’ chin, yanking up for Stiles could look into Derek’s eyes. 

“I don’t like it when you do that!” Derek growled, in Stiles’ face. “Attack you?” the boy asked. Derek shook his head. 

“I don’t like it when you submit.”


End file.
